AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Olivia
The ride to the brewery sight is less than pleasant.
I ride in the back seat with Cam, who, it turns out, is extremely flatulent when passed out drunk. Dracks Mylar and Olivia are in the front, and they’ve been talking shop constantly.
And let me tell you, Mylar is far from amused.
“You’re telling me we have only two months to prepare for this contest?”
His jaw is wide open, his eyes staring hard at Olivia.
“I mentioned this in the packet I sent you,” Olivia replies. “Don't tell me you didn’t read it.”
“Of course I did not read it. I’m Dracks Mylar.” He sniffs. “I win every competition I involve myself in.”
“Except for the Preakniss Eros run a couple years back,” I say helpfully “of course, we all know that’s because the ChevRamFord team was sandbagging during the qualifying run…”
He looks daggers at me, and I swallow, hard. He’s not the type to fight physically, but all he has to do is withdraw his support and Oliva and I will be in the lurch.
“I meant no offense,” I say when he won’t stop glaring.
“Calm down, Mylar. We learn more from our failures as from our successes.” Olivia cocks an eyebrow at him. "So what’s so bad about there only being a couple months before the contest?”
“He’s worried about brew times, I believe.” I nod toward Mylar. “Two months isn’t enough time to brew much more than ales and shandies.”
“I was so hoping to create the perfect dark lager,” Mylar says with a sigh. Then he looks into the back seat again, and this time there’s respect in his gaze. “You seem to be not wholly uneducated on matters of brewing.”
“Um, thanks,” I say. “I think.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with great magnanimity.
He totally misses my sarcasm, but then again that might be for the best.
“How long would you take to do the dark lager, Mylar?” Olivia asks.
“At least a year.”
“What about using microorganisms to increase the speed of the fermentation process?” I dare to ask.
Again, Mylar gives me the look of death.
“Such brews are always tainted in both flavor and consistency,” he says icily.
“In two months, the Erebus collective is going to host a beer festival, and the winner will be determined by who has the best sales,” Olivia says.
“So it’s not just a matter of who has the best product,” Mylar says. “But also who can market their wares the best.”
“I hadn’t considered that.” A scowl etches itself on my face. “Fratvoyans are shrewd marketers. We might be facing an uphill battle on that front.”
“Don’t forget,” Olivia says “we have our own Fratvoyan.”
“Oh yes,” I say with a scowl at the snoring creature in the seat beside me. “I’m so relieved to have Cam Neely on our side. He’s already proven to be the least annoying member of his sapient species I have ever met.”
“He hasn’t done anything but sleep and fart.”
“Precisely. It’s far less troublesome than the garbage that usually spews from the sewer hole that Chadd Gorgo calls a mouth.”
“Excuse me,” Mylar says. “I hate to interrupt this scintillating conversation, but perhaps you could drop me off at my hotel for a bit?”
